Before the Earth, the Sun was guided by a primordial force. In the intense pressure of its core, this force manifested a physical form, a human form. Around it, a golden sphere of protection shielded the body from heat. As the Sun found its rightful place in the galaxy, this force was done growing at its core.

 

A solar flare that purged all the planets of their atmospheres launched the golden sphere into space. The planets recovered and life began on Earth as a result of that regrowth. During this time, humans began to walk and form communities and tribes. They gathered resources and separated from each other, keeping for themselves even what others needed. This was the birth of greed.

Centered between three major cities, each with their own culture, the golden sphere landed. There was neither a flame trail, nor a violent impact. Even so, the glimmer of the large orb caught the eye of many humans and word spread like sunfire.

Rulers of the three tribes arrived at the site by morning, speaking no words to each other. They had their servants attempt to move the sphere. It was immovable. They tried to break it. It was unbreakable. A few months of attempts passed before a fourth culture arrived at the sphere.

The fourth culture was more humble than the others. Unique amongst the others, they hunted with well trained birds. They were more concerned with the humans than with the actual orb. While the gold would be an enormous boost to their troubled economy, it seemed insane that the other tribes wasted so much time on this endeavor when their own cities had need for them.

As they prepared to leave the others, one of their birds perched atop the sphere. It pecked curiously at a dented section until a loud crack was heard. All the leaders stood and watched, hoping the whole thing would bust open. They grew tired of waiting and had their servants build structures on three sides of the sphere so the leaders could view inside.

“It’s a man.” each leader said in their own languages. They viewed inside the grand, hollow sphere to see a large man laying down, staring out of the hole at the hunting birds circling above.

Each of the rulers were given tools to break into the sphere. As their hammers and chisels touched the golden shell, it crumbled into many smaller pieces. There was no man, but a golden bird emerged from the center and flew off into the trees.

The three rulers and their servants fought to collect the gold for themselves while the fourth tribe tried to stop the fighting. Upon the tallest branch, the golden bird kept a watchful eye. 

Once every bit of gold was taken, the three rulers returned to their cities; the fourth tribe had been gone for a while by then.

Returning to their humble encampment in the rainforest, the fourth tribe brought with them food they hunted. Their birds ate well, along with their children and elders. The hunters, however, struggled to catch enough to feed themselves. It stormed wildly that night. Loose branches and animal skins gave way to cold, relentless wind and rain. Again, the children, birds and elders were sheltered while the majority of the tribe had no space to avoid the elements.

The sun rose with fury. The fourth tribe awoke to the golden bird standing at the center of their village. It transformed before their eyes into a man. He spoke words in their language, and they could hear the same words in other languages being spoken simultaneously.

“Amidst sprawling cities, I find true worthiness here.”

The man raised his arms, and his golden staff shone with sunlight. Rocks making up the village’s landscape began to change. People walked to pick up the stones to find that they were not stones anymore. The fourth culture had been blessed by this being with pure gold.

 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” the people all approached and bowed before the man.

“Beware greed, the offspring of fortune.” the man warned, transforming back into a massive, golden bird and retreating to the rainforest.

The three major cities of old collapsed not long after the golden sphere. The fourth culture, however, was generous and willing to take in any refugees. For centuries, they prospered, remaining grateful to the mythical being who brought them their wealth.

Eventually, the new major civilization was taken over by a cruel warlord. The city shook and stone crumbled at the pounding of war drums. The people once again would need their patron to survive.

As the warlord approached the throne, he found that the people were all bowing on the large golden platform. They all prayed to the being, unsure whether he would appear.

High above the throne, in the sky, gold feathers reflected a beam of sunlight towards the warlord, erupting a pillar of flame. Though just a warning, he was thrown from his fleeing horse and forced to abandon the siege with his army. Drumming grew more faint until the city knew they were safe.

 

Compassion for the city’s people and understanding of their vulnerability, it was clear without him, they would be attacked again, so the bird perched on the tall back of the chair and turned to solid gold. Noone dared attack the city, for fear of their resident Sun God, Zol.

Following a police report and numerous reports, the being known as Gospel had become a common topic in Big City. Exposing the operations of a crime syndicate by shredding the walls of their warehouse with beams of light put a stop on major crimes for a few weeks. Many saw Gospel as a savior of the city, the first to challenge the new regime of wrongdoers, who were united under BD’s leadership.

Within the city, Gospel would appear sparingly. At moments of darkness, of pain, he would illuminate and heal. Over a short span of time, he amassed a following of adoring, devoted fanatics. They called themselves ‘The Children of Gospel’, and dressed all in white with black ties. Gospel himself was not totally unaware of the phenomenon, but had chosen to ignore it as it seemed benign.

Each month, in Big City Park, thousands gathered to meet and discuss the latest rumors and sightings of their deity. It was often a place for people with not much else to do to come and connect and find community. They rallied peacefully and spread the good word of Gospel’s many miracles.

The Children of Gospel became a more and more prominent force in the city. Traffic jams were caused by the white-clad righteous recruiting drivers unlucky enough to have had their window down.

“Gospel will be at our next meeting. He told us! You should come!” The overexcited woman handed the driver a pamphlet and held a smile that was much too wide. Gospel made no such claim, but that rumor spread quickly, and the thousands prepared to come to the meeting multiplied tenfold.

On the day of the meeting, in the park, so many people gathered that they bled out into the street. The rally was no longer a peaceful one. Those believing themselves more devoted were hostile towards those of a more casual fandom. Original members held a firm authority over the group, though it was wildly out of control. 

One civilian on the street gave the entire group something to unite over. He shouted from across the way, “Children is right!”

The simple, silly comment sparked mayhem in the blink of an eye. Many thousands of people charged across the street towards the man, many of which having no idea why. They reached the man and started to attack mercilessly. He whimpered on the ground until he fell silent. The mob didn’t stop. Those who were less aware believed they were going after non-believers. Down the street, they swarmed civilians and beat them to death.

Silence now fell on The Children themselves. Gospel shone above the park and the cloudy sky was filled with fading light. “He’s here!”, “It’s him!” “Gospel!!” These whispers filled the area until everyone realized their savior was not pleased.

“WICKED FOOLS.”

Reality rattled and infinite voices rang out in everyone’s minds. Gospel lifted the bodies of the five deceased with a motion of his staff and flew them to his side. His eyes, robes and orb began to take on a blackness which slowly grew.

“YOUR SINS WILL UNDO YOU.”

The bodies melted into purity, countless shards of light, spreading across the park slowly. Gospel moved his hand, launching the light of the first body towards the crowd, who began to run, screaming.

In the emptiness formed by the evacuation, the Sun God, Zol, stood tall, a staff similar to Gospel’s in hand. As the shards neared those near him, he flashed his staff and absorbed the light.

“No.” Zol commanded in every language, running forward and transforming into the golden bird of legend. He flew at a stunned Gospel, knocking the darkness into remission and carrying him away from the dispersing fanatics. As the two soared out of the city, they battled with their powers of light in the air.

Gospel teleported to the ground below and awaited Zol, who transformed back into a man.

“They are human, Gospel. You must guide them past their errors. They want you to lead them.”

“I cannot lead them. I’ve not grown from when I was human. In both lives, I fostered a flock of sin and weakness.”

“A shepherd would not cull his flock.” Zol gave Gospel a stern eye. “Your intentions are pure. Let them witness.” Zol stepped close to Gospel, who remained steady. He peeked into his eyes as if looking through a window. “That Darkness. That was not you. That, you should not foster.” Zol disappeared in a flash of sunlight.

Gospel phased back out of reality and into his vacuous white dimension between, standing ready to intervene wherever needed. He considered Zol’s warning, but constantly felt the darkness move within. Zol was wrong… it was him.